The Bare Naked Truth
by lizook
Summary: He opened his mouth, intending to say something to clue her in, but it was already too late.


**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in future

**A/N**: Lots of love to **space77** for going over this 2,123 times and making sure it worked with its companion piece, which is being edited and should be posted soonish.

**Disclaimer**: Bones, sadly, doesn't belong to me. Title found in Faith Hill's _I Want You.

* * *

_"So how much longer are they keeping you hostage in the _Written in Bone_ exhibit?" The doors of the lab slid open and he followed her through, mindlessly rubbing at the ketchup stain on his tie from their quick lunch. "And hey, wasn't that a potential title for your last novel?"

She rolled her eyes, forehead wrinkling as she noticed Angela waiting for them in her office. "I was assured I would be relieved at the end of next week unless we happen upon a case that requires my undivided attention. Of course, they'll pull me back to supervise the next step of the trans-"

"I know, Bones, I just couldn't remember how long this stretch was supposed..."

"Too long." Her hands clenched in the collar of her lab coat as she pulled it off the coat rack, "What's up, Ange?"

"I have sketches for two of the three people in the limbo case." She gestured to the folder on Brennan's desk. "Hey, do you think you could use me over at the exhibit? I could stand to get out of the lab for a little while."

"It's not entirely implausible." She slipped out of her blazer, gathering her hair in a quick ponytail before reaching for her lab coat. "Perhaps you could design a background for all the information presented at each..."

Booth inhaled sharply, her words fading as he blinked furiously. If the fact that she looked completely ravaged didn't give them away, the tag clearly visible on the back of her shirt would. How had he missed it when they were leaving the exhibit? Or during lunch?

He opened his mouth, intending to say something - _anything _- to clue her in, but it was already too late.

"Oh my god, really you guys?! You've been together for six months!"

"What?" She smoothed her coat, flipping open the folder on her desk.

"Umm," he cupped the back of his neck, shuffling in his spot, "it's..."

"Your shirt, Bren," Angela laughed, shaking her head, "your shirt is on inside out."

"Oh," she glanced down, pushing her coat aside, fingering the outward seam, "but why does that indicate that Booth and I had sex? Perhaps I merely dressed in the dark this morning."

"Please, like _you _wouldn't have noticed the minute you went to put your make up on. Besides, Booth is acting all embarrassed yet decidedly pleased and," she stepped forward, eyes trailing over Brennan's face, "you look positively free of stress... which has _not _happened since you started overseeing the exhibit change-"

"Well, he is quite adept at-"

"Bones!" He groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"...explaining to me the virtues of not becoming too stressed, allowing some of the small things to, what's the phrase? Roll off my back?" She grinned, Booth's eyebrow lifting at the correct use of the phrase.

"Sure, sweetie, I'm sure that's why your hair looks mauled too. I'm gonna go see if I can finish that third sketch, let me know if you have any questions. Booth..." She nodded at him, chuckling knowingly as his cheeks flushed.

"She," he glanced over his shoulder, making sure Angela was out of earshot, "she didn't buy it."

"So?" She shrugged, finally picking up the folder Ange had been delivering. "You know, this looks like it could be a fairly complicated case; I might be _very_ stressed tonight."

"Hmmm, well, I," he grinned stepping closer, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, "will pick you up for dinner at seven and then we'll spend all night," his thumb brushed over the slight red mark on the side of her neck from earlier, "releasing your tension."

"It's a plan. Now let me get to work." She smiled, hands grasping his shoulders, pushing him out of the office. Pausing, she stepped in front of him, brushing her lips over his before practically sprinting up the steps to the platform, never more excited to become a little stressed.


End file.
